Untidy threads were trimmed.
I sat by the fireside looking at the latest offering to the
gods of quilting,
The urgency to finish sated… for the moment.
Closing my eyes momentarily in weariness, I leaned back in
the overstuffed chair stretched my aching arthritic fingers and looked around
my domain.
Hope sat quietly in her little chair by my side, while I
told her about the quilt, strips of the golds and greens; blues and reds; the
black of night; the warming sun; the memories of that golden week in West
Virginia.
Evergreen branches -Green fingers reaching out to grab the
unwary walker
Sycamores dropping leaves of tan and red, white strips of
bark dangling, slipping silently to the ground
Bears hiding in darkened corners filling up for the long hibernation...
Raccoons racing through the golden leaves hunting, hunting….
Small red deer peering through baring branches, looking
warily
Hunters hiding, sneaking, trailing…
Gold, tan, black, red; colors of the autumn life in the
Shenandoah mountains
And Figaro, fat, and lazy sauntering towards the cabin porch
for a nap
In the sun.
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